Dealing with the messy bits
by NaranjaGold
Summary: When Newton and Hermann meet for the first time, it seems like they have nothing in common. And while it is said that opposites attract, no one said it was going to be easy to acknowledge that attraction. Sometimes it takes a joint fusion with an alien clone monster to realize how much you need someone.
1. The Lab

**As you know, I do not own Pacific Rim or the characters. If I did, they would have gotten a lot more screen-time together and it would probably have been a very different movie. **

**1. The Lab**

Newton has been very excited about meeting the man who is going to be the other half of the K-Science Department.  
All the oh-so-serious people that used to look down on him have abandoned the Jaeger Project, following the orders of the World Council. Only someone like him, someone with a real personal interest in learning about the kaiju, would be mad enough to join this so-called Resistance.  
Which by the way sounds pretty cool.  
He's part of the Resistance now and he is finally going to meet someone he can relate to.

When the Marshal shows him to the lab he is surprised to find it looking so neat and sterile.  
Surely there has to be another room where the real work is done: dissection, experimentation.  
This place looks more like an ancient schoolroom. It makes him feel a little constrained and when the words "Don't touch anything." ring out behind him, he fully expects to be hit around the ear with a ruler. If only for a second.

"Ah, Dr. Gottlieb." the Marshal exclaims. "May I present your lab partner, Dr. Geiszler."

Newton turns, arm rising for a handshake, and meets the disbelieving glance of a stern-looking man wearing his grandfather's wardrobe fresh from the attic.  
_This _is his work partner?

He has imagined his kindred spirit very different. And by the looks of it the other man is just as disappointed.  
Well, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, right? He always hates it to be pigeonholed like that.  
So he hastens to finish the gesture and, taking a few steps towards Dr. Gottlieb, he holds out his hand: "Great to meet you!"  
The other man narrows his eyes, shoots a glance at the Marshal and then back at Newton and his outstreched hand.  
Finally he takes it, gives it a short and slightly cramped squeeze and pulls back quickly.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it." the Marshal announces his voice slightly strained. "Good Day to you."

With that he is halfway out of the room already and Newton has to fight an infantile impulse to run after him. Allowing only his eyes to follow, he watches the door close with a pang of regret and turns at the sound of a throat being cleared.  
Gottlieb is giving him a tight smile. "So, - Doctor-, do tell me about your work. I've been told your research into the nature of the beasts is – quite unique."

The way he pronounces the word "Doctor", followed by a subtle little twitching in the corners of his mouth, suggests that he does not think his new colleague is deserving of the title and Newton feels his heart sink.  
But the man who is to be his future lab partner looks at him with a fake polite interest and some very real arrogant challenge and he hurries to answer.  
This guy obviously has no patience for nervous breaks in the conversation.

And he can tell, as he explains, that he will find no like-minded enthusiast in this man.  
Far from it.  
Recognizing the signs comes easy to him, he's seen them far too often, and Gottlieb's reaction to him is discouragingly familiar: He does not take him seriously, thinks him a weirdo, worse – a joke.  
The disappointment he is trying to keep down makes him speak faster, more desperate until the words start tripping over each other on their way off his tongue.  
And under Gottlieb's stone-cold look, the unmoving face, he finally falters. "Well, that's basically it, um, I hope that with the equipment that's available here I will be able to delve somewhat deeper, but, right now, that's the, uh, state of the art, so to say, hm."

"I see."  
It's a miracle that these tight lips managed to pronounce something, but that's what must have happened, unless the guy's a ventriloquist and that idea is oddly disturbing so Newton doesn't follow the thought.  
Instead he tries to give a polite smile as the other man throws a "Well, Dr. Geiszler, it was a pleasure, but there is much to do I'm afraid." at him, nods curtly and turns to get back to his desk.

As he is left standing on the other side of the room, feeling a little forlorn, Newton gets this feeling that it's going to be a tough last days of the world.

TBC


	2. The Line

**2. The Line**

Hermann has not had much hope for that first meeting. After all his new colleague is a biologist ...  
But if Newton Geiszler is what counts for one of the finest minds around here, he thinks he feels seriously insulted.  
He did try to give the man a short summary of his work, to see if he could appreciate it and the reaction was: "That's amazing. But isn't it a bit- … dry?"  
To which Hermann could not refrain from answering. "Yes, exactly. A very well chosen word, because your work", a vague gesture towards the other half of the room, "is oozing all over the place."

The man is just so ... messy.  
Just like his chosen field. Studying biology means dealing with all the gooey messy bits that emerge when you scope up to the macro-level and suddenly nothing is neat and tidy any more.

As Hermann likes to put it, numbers are like the handwriting of god and the designs they describe are beautiful in their pure and simple logic.  
But oh, the execution ...  
Yes, numbers might be the handwriting of god, but soggy body parts and weird smells and irrational behaviour are the lazily thrown-together handiwork of life trying to follow the script and failing miserably.  
Somewhere along the way, the perfection is lost.

And now the same is true for his one safe haven - the lab - and it is just unbearable.

The world right now is immersed in chaos, so the one thing to cling on to is the order one can create for oneself.  
A neatly arranged workspace is not just some arbitrary interior design preference. It is a way to fight back, to show the world that there is something left one can control.  
The piece of driftwood to cling on to in the middle of the storm.

Yes, it is probably a bit of a compulsive compensation.  
Hermann knows that. He has enough self-reflection to understand why Dr. Geiszler's chaotic personality upsets him so much.  
But he just cannot take the messiness.  
It creeps up on him, threatens to swallow him up and keeps his mind from focusing.

So he has to draw a line. Literally. No matter how petty it seems, he needs to regain control of at least half of the lab.

Thus the dividing line is born, just one week into their work as a team.  
Probaly not a good sign.  
And the grimace that Geiszler pulls makes it very clear that he thinks him a total control-freak with a serious neurosis-problem, but what the hell.  
He never claimed he was much of a team player. And its not like they were exactly destined to be great friends anyway, so no harm done there.

...

But ... no matter how ridiculous that line is, things actually get better once they established this kind compromise: Do whatever you like, but do it on your end of the lab.

And as time goes by, the advantages of sharing a lab start showing.  
During a usual day Hermann rarely meets anyone, arriving at the lab early and just going back to his cell-like sleeping area when he is so tired he can't think straight any more. Suddenly he's got company. And that is actually nice.

Of course the quirky biologist is not the kind of man he would have befriended under former circumstances. He would probably have taken one look at him and then made sure to never make his acquaintance.  
But when you're stuck in the same room with one person pretty much every waking hour, you end up going against your prejudices.  
Not that he approves of the man's attitude now.  
But he has developed a fondness for him. One that is sufficient to make him accept the things that are so incredibly annoying about him.

Although he sometimes wishes for Geiszler's own sake that he would at least stop being so obvious.  
His whole whole appearance, his whole demeanour give the impression that he is still trying to get the cool kids to like him. Which never works and makes the smart kids look down on him and he is stuck in the middle.

Hermann sighs. The poor guy probably only relates to his fellow special interest forum-members on the internet.  
Which is a pity, because he isn't a bad person and he is smart. He's really smart, he just completely fails conveying that to his environment.

Even the people who are supposed to know why he was picked for this mission seem to have a hard time remembering that, once they meet him face to face.

So Hermann is not surprised when after a strategy meeting with the pilots Chuck Hansen pushes the small man in a corner and asks him if he thinks this is all a joke.  
Why they hired a clown like him to submit to the plan the fate of the world is hinged on.

While Hermann does sometimes get intimidated by sheer physical power he thinks it a disgrace and takes care to never show it.  
So what he does is use his most cutting and arrogant tone saying "Excuse me, Mr. Hansen, but Dr. Geiszler is an expert in his field and there is no one who understands as much about the kaiju as he does. I very much doubt you'd comprehend what he is working on, but then I have no idea how to throw a serious punch. So why don't you get on with your own job and let him do his. Might just safe your life one of these days."

And somehow the voice works on the big bully and he just snorts and leaves, fuming.

...

It isn't until the next day that a shadow falls on Hermann's papers and he looks up to find his lab partner hovering at his desk.  
"Yes?" he asks. "What is it?" and the other just blurts out: "Did you mean that?"  
"What?"  
"What you said, yesterday, to Hansen. That-... I … I know what I'm doing." He actually seems to be wondering.  
"Well, of course." Hermann answers shaking his head.  
When a huge grin starts to spread over the other's face he hurries to add "It is only biology of course, a superficial field at best, there isn't much serious theoretical work you can do with that, but within in the limits of your field, it is hard to deny your competence, Dr. Geiszler."

The grin hasn't stopped spreading despite that desperate attempt to curb its enthusiasm and Hermann starts to worry that his colleague will start dancing all over the place soon. But luckily he refrains from that and settles for beaming at Hermann some more while saying: "Please, call me Newt."  
Hermann chokes on a cough at that invitation and tries to return the frantic grinning with a smile of his own, knowing full-well that it probably ends up as a rather silly grimace.  
God deliver us from awful nicknames. His is fully determined to never use this one under any circumstances.

_TBC_


	3. The Parka

**3. The Parka**

When November comes, the weather changes to cold and drizzly and Newton makes the acquaintance of the Parka.  
The Parka isn't just any old parka. It is the sole item of clothing in Hermann's possession that has apparently not been handed down by an elderly uncle with the fashion sense of a colorblind mountain goat and it has astounding magical properties.

With everyone hurrying around with their heads drown-in and eyes to the ground Newton isn't even aware that Hermann is out in the rain as well until he bumps right into him reaching the entrance.  
"Oops, sorry, didn't see-" he starts and then breaks off baffled when he recognizes his colleague in the young stranger with the dark wet strands plastered to the fair skin. "Hermann?"  
"You're not being funny. Please stop trying." is the dry response.  
But as the other man turns to walk off, Newton grabs his arm and pulls him back round. "Man!" is all he manages, shaking his head.  
Exasperated Hermann pulls the hood from his ears and that is still good, no better, gosh, who would have thought that Dr. Hermann Gottlieb was a passably attractive guy?  
"What?" the attractive guy – yeah, loose the 'passably' there, even if he's scowling – asks harshly and Newton can't stop the grin spreading over his face.  
"Dude – that's a really nice parka you got there. Suits you. You should wear it more often."  
The look the Newton receives now is not so much angry any more, rather resigning. "It is a parka. I wear it going out into the cold and the rain. If you have quite had enough of admiring my intriguing range of wardrobe – suitable for both in- and outdoors –, maybe we can get back to work."

Later, in bed, Newton cringes a little as he thinks back at the scene.  
So it was probably a stupid thing to say. But seriously, what a transformation.  
Newton has spend most of the rest of that workday glancing over and trying to find out if he could still spot the attractive guy hidden in the horrible grandfather-clothes.  
And it wasn't that easy. But once you knew what you were looking for, it was all there.

Still. It was not exactly a very mature reaction. He doesn't even know why it got him so giddy.  
Probably because his lab partner had seemed a little more accessible for once. And he is just aching for some closer social contact. Everyone else seems to take him for a little shrewd and Hermann, well, you know how it is with people you spend most of your waking time with everyday. You can't help but develop a certain attachment.  
And while the man does not hide his contempt for Newton's attitude he does not overlook his abilities.  
Granted, he despises the work with solid matter as messy and sloppy and inexact, but he at least respects Newtons expertise in the field he despises.  
And that is more than can be said about a lot of other people who see him as the tattooed clown who's always up to his elbows in kaiju goo.

Also, it means a lot more coming from someone who has high standards for intellect.

Someone so unbending. So blunt. And with such striking cheekbones and just slightly curling hair and – that's beside the point.  
Newton feels something stirring in his stomach, a familiar acidly sting.  
'Nononono.' he thinks to himself a little panicky. 'No, I won't think about it and then it will just go away. I just won't think about it anymore.'  
Curse that stupid parka.

_TBC_


	4. The Mug

**4. The Mug**

It's not like life is usually a walk in the daisy-fields.  
Hermann knows a lot of people who just can't find the will in them any more to get up in the morning and he can see where they come from. The world is coming to an end after all. And while he is supposed to be part of the team that fights to stop it from happening, his calculations are not getting anywhere.

So working for the resistance does not lift his spirits as much as one might think.  
The outlook is bleak, the people are condescending and somehow it is clammy everywhere all the time.  
Life certainly isn't something to enjoy these days. Of course it isn't. That's just the way it is and that's how he takes it. What else can you do?

But still – even in the midst of all this – he curses the days when his leg decides to chip in and play its part in that great show of misery, no matter how insignificant it may be compared to monsters trying to eradicate the human race from this once beautiful planet.  
He hates it.  
Because it hurts. It hurts and hurts and just doesn't stop hurting even if you try to ignore it as hard as you can and that is not the bad part.  
The bad part is where he just cannot forgive himself for feeling bad. With all the tragedy in the world today, what does he have to feel bad about?  
Millions of people die. Millions are injured far, far worse than he is. He can still work, he is barely hindered in everyday life.

But whenever the pain comes back he can't help but quarrel with fate and he can't ever forgive himself this pettiness.

And now he has to enter his workplace where Newton will be and he will probably do something really annoying and he doesn't know if he can take that now.  
Maybe his lab partner will realize what a mood he is in and just keep it down for once.  
Hah, yes, very likely.  
Newton is not a perceptive guy.  
Which is curious if you consider that his chosen profession is the Sciences.  
But he really isn't. Not when it comes to normal people. All his attention is focused on kaiju. Pry him away from his nauseating jars of alien body parts and his ability to observe and deduct is all in the wind.  
He never picks up even the most obvious social signs, never realizing how he makes a spectacle of himself.  
Of both of them really. Because these people here just cluster the two of them together indiscriminately.  
If Newton would just learn to read people like he reads monsters, he would spare himself a lot of embarrassment. But he never seems to have any interest left for anything else.  
If he would just lift his eyes from those gooey beakers for just one second, but that isn't very likely to-

"Is something wrong with your leg?"

Of course. The one time he relies on Newton's carelessness to shield him, the guy suddenly turns perceptive.  
Hermann grits his teeth and forces a cynic smile. "What, why?" he asks and gives a little wave with his cane. "This old thing? That's just an accessory."  
The other man is not discouraged. "Worse than usual, I mean." he says and the look on his face is more lenient than angry and somehow that makes it worse.  
"There are good days and bad days." Hermann grumbles, turning away towards his desk.

It seems idiotic but he thinks he can feel Newton watching him walk, assessing the way he diverts his weight between the legs and it is completely undignified.  
Finally he slumps into the chair and steals a careful glance over to his colleague.  
He seems completely absorbed in a bowl of something greyish-green that looks like mashed entrails.  
So probably he forgot already. That's a relief.

Except he hasn't.

That becomes clear during the day.

Just around ten o'clock Hermann feels the yearning for caffeine, triggered by years of habit, rise under his skin.  
But getting up would be definitely unpleasant so he decides to just keep concentrating on his work and not think about it. He really shouldn't drink so much coffee anyway. Obviously he imbibes far too much of that stuff usually, seeing how he reacts to this withdrawal. He actually gets the impression that he can smell it already and that is so irritating that he does lift his head and his eyes fall on a light blue object that has appeared out of nowhere on his desk: a steaming hot mug, emanating a delicious fragrant of roasted beans that makes Hermann close his eyes and inhale for a moment.

Admittedly it does say „Accio Cocoa" in flashy letters on the blue porcelain.  
But then Hermann's own cup – plain white to begin with – has been sporting a remarkably scratch-resistant grumpy-cat-tattoo ever since he gave Newton his opinion on kaiju action figures as laboratory furnishings. So that is probably to be taken as an amicable gesture.

And the mug remains no singular event.  
Whenever Hermann needs anything that is out of arm's reach, Newton just so happens to be there, claiming he was just on his way to get something for himself anyway.

Obviously he has not forgotten.

So Hermann pretends he doesn't notice.  
Pretends that it is just simple collegiality, politeness, a meaningless form of etiquette that is in no way connected to his physical condition.  
Ridiculous really, but it is the better way.  
Because that way he doesn't have to start another fight. He doesn't have to say: 'Stop treating me like an invalid. I'm not an invalid.'  
Which – frankly – would be ungrateful.  
Snubbing someone who's trying to help is not something to be proud of. No matter how wounded one's ego is.

And that way he doesn't have to refuse each and every kind gesture as infamy.  
Because they are a relief really.  
And he just doesn't have it in him to deny himself that relief today.

_TBC_


	5. The Model

_**Just as an orientation guide: I am going to jump into the movie story-line here and if you feel that there is a lot missing - that is on purpose. I am trying to not repeat everything but concentrate on filling in between the scenes and giving some background-information on our guys' motivations for behaving the way they do.**_

**5. The Model**

By the time the Marshal and Herc have left, Newton is fuming like a Harvest Pyre.  
Not that what happened came entirely unexpected.

Ever since he first presented his findings to Hermann and asked for his support in the drifting experiment the two of them have been fighting constantly.

It had been a heavy blow that Hermann, whom he had come to think of as a somewhat difficult friend, had reacted in such a strongly negative way. He had blatantly refused to even discuss the idea and finally ended up ridiculing Newton's work again. His appreciation had meant so much to Newton and then it seemed like he had never had really gotten any.

Stubbornly he had been pinning his hopes on convincing the Marshal that his approach was the better one, but of course, he had just been cut down again.  
And worst of all was his so-called partner, belittling him incessantly in front of the decision makers.

Fueled by fury he walks over to Hermann's board of calculations and smashes a flat palm against it. "And what is it you're actually doing here?" he barks. "What do you base these predictions on? I had no idea your field was occult mathematics with a specialty in hieromantic?"

Hermann, who has turned around, startled by the sudden attack, now just snorts dismissively. "Asks the man who is literally rummaging through entrails to find his results."

Newton feels a blush rising – he really set himself up for that one – but fighting to keep it from reaching his face he just storms onwards: "I do not see how that is relevant to my question. You're the one who can't shut up about scientific precision and diligence and then you just spit out prophecies like that? I call that sloppy work below even the most basic standards. You completely skipped building a coherent thesis and just open with the oracle."

Under this accusation Hermann's eyes transform into very slim slits. He hates having his professional integrity questioned. "If I might remind you – I kept trying to get you to take an interest in this and you always made it very clear that you are not interested at all."

That is true. But only because Hermann has stopped to show even respect – it's not that he was asking for eager interest – but not even respect for Newton's own findings, just brushing them off as some kind of dubious hobby.  
"Well, you never-" he starts but bites the words back from his tongue. 'You never wanted to discuss my theory, so I refused to take an interest in yours.' sounds just incredibly childish. And it is. Of course. How did they get on this rivalry track? Weren't they supposed to work together?

"Anyway." comes Hermann's voice into the lack of repartee and Newton is surprised to hear that it has changed, sounds less condescending, maybe even a little … subdued?

"As you know, my job is to try and find out how the dimensional tunnel functions. And the only way to do this is to get in years and years of data of its properties and then try to build a working model from that. Now the tunnel has been stunningly stable since the first time it opened and it became easy to spot the indicators that meant it was going to open again. It was the same pattern over and over again. But these last weeks it has changed considerably. And if I adjust my working model to these parameters and carry all else forward to a certain point in the future, then what I get is an opening that is durable enough for two to come through and shortly afterwards three and then-", he swallows, "as much as they got."

The normally very controlled and reserved features crumble a little with those last words and for a moment there, Hermann looks scared, paler than usual and suddenly frail. Newton feels his anger subside at the sight, giving way to a sudden urge to pull this fragile frame of bony shoulders and tasteless garment into a not too careful hug.  
Just to divert his mind from that, he blurts out the first question that comes to his mind: "But how do you know that they will come through? The only thing you do know is that there will be a possibility for them to come through."

Instantly the cracks smoothen over and his colleague is all professional again: "Well, actually that was where I would have thought I could refer to your results, since you are in charge of researching the behaviour of the things. But as you got nothing in that direction-", a little reproaching glance, "I made an educated guess.  
Whenever there was the possibility for one of them to come through they did. There was never any opening of the tunnel that just closed without anything coming through.  
So I'm pretty sure that when they can, they will. And at the latest when the persistent connection comes-", he pauses to give Newton an intense look, as if trying to make sure he is listening and then goes on in a very flat tone, „we are going to be fucked.  
So we got to act now and we got to act fast. And there is no time for your nonsense. This is not a competition to see who gets the most applause for a fancy performance. We are supposed to work together to avoid the apocalypse, by any means that might work."

"I know that!" Newton throws at him, exasperated.  
If that's what he's thinking, why doesn't he understand then?  
„And this is exactly why I want to try and gather more information before we risk it all and loose because we missed important details."  
The words come louder than intended, but he needs Hermann to understand. And he should understand now, he should.

But instead Hermann's cheeks flush and he raises his voice as well: "You are not going to mingle your mind with that – atrocity! I will not stand for it!"  
He is obviously trying to convey that for him the argument is over, but Newton is not about to give up. This fighting is stupid and unnecessary.  
He needs to make him understand. Hermann is clever, right? He's got to understand.

So he ploughs on: "Don't you think it is odd that they are clones? Where do they come from? Is someone growing them? If there is an intelligence behind this? A planned attack? Then it seems only logical to assume that there is some kind of defense-mechanism also. And we have no idea what that would be. We send our guys out there without knowing what awaits them. Can you take responsibility for that? And you said it yourself – we have this one chance. We just have to make 300 per cent sure that what we do will work!"

Breathless Newton stops and looks for a reaction from his lab partner who has fallen silent. It seems like he finally got through to him, like he is finally really thinking things through and Newton realizes, as he waits for the response, that his body is all tensed up, strung tight with anticipation.

Meanwhile Hermann is still just looking at him, squinting, lips pressed tightly together, pondering.  
"No scientist with any self-respect would use the term '300 per cent'." is what he finally mutters.

Unbelievable, that's what he's got to say to this? This man is so infuriatingly arrogant.  
Yes, yes, they should work together. It's not a competition, of course, but he still refuses to even listen, to give Newton's concerns even a thought.  
Well, he's going to show him that it can be done. That he is on to something here. He is not going to let this slide when the fate of all humanity is on the table.

Newton feels his face muscles tighten with the resolve. "All right." is all the syllables he still spares his colleague.  
He is not going to argue with that man any more. He will not be humiliated any more.  
And he's not going to look at the guy when his face falls guiltily and softens, because when Hermann's face goes soft like that, that makes him weak in the knees and that is just another degradation and so completely unfair and he will not have that besting him now.

"Look, I-" Hermann starts feebly but Newton cuts him off. "I really do not want to talk to you anymore."

And he leaves because that is the only option he can think of and leaving Hermann behind is the one thing that is easy when dealing with him.  
Even if he wanted to keep up, which apparently he doesn't since Newton can hear no footsteps behind him.

_TBC_


	6. The Clock

**6. The Clock**

Pale lines are glowing dimly in the dark. Hermann squints a little, but there is no mistaking the numbers they spell out: 04:48.  
It feels like he has been lying awake for ages but it still isn't even 5 in the morning.  
He shortly wonders if the clock is broken. The stupid thing has been torturing him for what seems like an eternity.  
Kept telling him, that this sleepless night was far from over. That he would not escape the thoughts that come unbidden and unstoppable to his waking mind in the dusky, silent room.  
Not for a long time.

But of course he knows the clock is perfectly alright.  
It's him who is the problem. His own mind that won't stop reproaching him, puts him on trial and refuses to let him steal himself away to the comfort of sleep.

Yes, he feels guilty.  
Because Newton's concerns – while being just a shuddering amount of guess-work with next no data to work with – are valid.  
They are for just the reasons he pointed out: They cannot afford even the slightest risk, because if they blow it once, there will be no second chance.

So following these weird findings – identical gene material – would be a wise thing to do. Absolutely.  
But there just is no way to do this in time. Only Newton's insane plan of connecting to the mass of yucky alien-nerves that he keeps in a jar filled with ammonium.  
The very idea gives Hermann the creeps.

Even if it was possible to establish a connection there is no telling what entwining your mind with that of a completely different species from another world would do to a human.

From what he knows about the drift-technology the outcome is unlikely to be pretty.  
The luckiest result he can think of is that one would die from the neurological overload, brain just giving in and shutting down.  
But there is the also very plausible and horrifying possibility that one would survive with the mind completely ravaged, first unraveled and then just crumpled back together again carelessly.

There was a reason they build the Jaegers in the form of giant humans and not like inhuman beasts to match their adversaries.  
The neurological connection was delicate. All too easily could one partner get confused by the other's thoughts and memories, could lose his sense of self and get mixed up in emotions that weren't his own.

It helped that when it came down to the basics they were alike: Two arms, two legs – the mind knows how to handle a body like this and when threatened manages to tune down to the fighting instincts all pilots had internalized alike.  
No matter who you were, you put your leg forward like this, you smashed your arm into the beast like this and the robot moved exactly in same way.

Two minds are supposed to flow together to establish a new neurological connection. Another, a bigger mind.  
With time and experience the pilots learn to keep part of their mind separate, to be part of the greater thing and still aware of their own individual identity.  
They had to be compatible though.  
Otherwise they never managed it. The connection turned into invasion, too much discrepancy, too much rejection of the disturbingly different.

The human mind is a very unique thing and there aren't many that are alike enough to one's own to let them slip into each other without causing severe discomfort. Like a rejected donor organ attacked by the bodies immune system the mind fought another mind not compatible to its own and if that experiment was carried on too long, despite the apparent mismatch, it led to lasting psychological damages.

But that must be negligible compared to what merging your mind with a different species would do to you.  
Newton certainly did not think the kaiju and he were drift compatible. He wasn't that crazy. Or was he?

No, he knew well enough what such an endeavour was likely to result in and the reason he still offered to do it was simple: Because it could theoretically save the whole world.  
The possibility, while rather small, was there.  
And yes, when fate of all humanity is on the table it is probably smart to take high risks even for small gainings.

But – he could die. Or worse.  
Of course if he did not do it, but was right after all, everyone would die and then what was the difference?

But – he might not be right.  
The chances that the plan would work the way it was planned now were not bad. And then everyone would live, but Newton would be dead, or worse, and his sacrifice would have been for nothing.

And Hermann knows, he knows all to well, that the reason he refuses to ever seriously talk to his colleague about this, the reason he reacts with irrational rejection to this, the reason he resorts to scorn where arguments fail, the reason he gets angry thinking about it, instead of weighing up the risk and possible gain objectively, is because he cannot stand the thought of losing him.  
He can't.

Which might come as a surprise to some people because he constantly complains about what a nuisance that guy is. But no matter how much he tests his patience sometimes, he cannot bear the though of something happening to him. Because he is not only infuriating.  
He is also kind, and smart and he has that fascinating enthusiasm that is so unlike Hermann's own stern dedication to his work.  
And also he is cute when he pouts and he is oddly attractive when he pulls himself together and acts like a professional once in while.  
And yes, that is beside the point. Probably. But the point is he is not expendable. Not at all.

Although thinking back to their recent argument Hermann realizes that acting the way he did probably conveyed an entirely different message.  
His own words come back to him, hauntingly: 'You want to merge yourself with that rotting alien brain? Why do you absolutely have to get into that? What are you? A groupie?'  
And he flinches as embarrassment starts to bloom and spread in his mind. That was ... unreasonable.  
Especially calling his partner a kaiju groupie in front of the new pilot. That was low, undignified.

And when Newton left the lab today he seemed really hurt and angry and that feels … bad.  
No matter how hard Hermann tries to think of something else the memory won't stop bothering him, sloshing around in his stomach like a cold thick jelly.

Another look at the clock tells him he finally made it to 5 o'clock. At last a sane time to get up and get to work.  
And as soon as Newton gets there he has to talk to him. He has to try to make things better.

Although he hasn't got the slightest clue how.

_TBC_


End file.
